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egan was eating with her boyfriend at her favorite Italian place when she noticed it for the first time. Things had been going really well that evening. Firmly in the middle of the conversation, boyfriend looking in her eyes, cute smile on his face, everything on schedule. Her mind was racing ahead to what would probably occur later that night when it happened.
A far off look came into his eyes. With the haughty air of an automaton, he quickly held up a scolding finger to her mouth, looked away, and answered his cell phone.
That’s when she saw it. She thought it odd that she hadn’t noticed before. The slack jaw, the glazed look in his eyes, the mumbling. . . .
“Okay. Yeah. Sure. Okay.”
The phenomenon continued for a few minutes, lasting until he closed the phone. Away from its influence his face gradually returned to normal, much to her relief. He smiled and put his finger down, his hand stopping on the way to softly stroke the side of her neck.
“I’m sorry, hon. What were you saying?”
“Well, just that I want to—”
Beethoven’s fifth. The symphony chirped along as he transformed.
Finger up, face in profile. She stared, biting her lip thoughtfully.
Probably the only classical music he had ever listened to.
Was it her? She looked down, taking stock.
No. The outfit was good, showing off her assets while balancing out the disadvantages of a high carb body in an Atkins world. Conversation was interesting, breath seemed okay. Romantic atmosphere. Than what?
Her eyes wandered to the other tables.
And that’s when she noticed.
People. Dozens of them, fingers in air, spasmodically nodding up and down. A veritable cacophony of monosyllabic speech, each person acting as though the unit of man and phone was a primal force, the first mover that propelled the world along its path.
“Okay.”
“Yeah.”
“Got you.”
And all their erstwhile partners, waiting. In some cases even talking on phones themselves. To her left, she saw quite a spectacle: an entire family, three generations worth, all talking at once to invisible people hidden away in their cell phones, each with personalized rings and colorful cases.
That look in their eyes. So far away. She pondered while chewing sullenly on her salmon. Do people do this on regular phones? What is it about these things? She flipped through the paper. Horoscopes. Mercury in retrograde. Bad news, it says. Perched right next to a batch of cell phone ads. She sighed heavily.
He was still on the phone.
“So anyway, what do you think?”
Carol looked at her quickly between bouts of steering, braking, honking, and occasional cursing.
“About what?”
“Well, don’t you think it’s weird? I mean, what is it about those phones?”
“People are just rude, Megan. You’ve never noticed that? That’s why I don’t have one. Don’t want the temptation. I’m rude enough as it is.” Carol smiled as she buzzed by a pack of bewildered pedestrians.
“There has to be more to it though. Paul isn’t usually like that. He’s normally so attentive to me. It’s just, when that damn phone goes off, he—”
“I know. Suddenly he’s talking to the president, right?” They eased into their usual parking spot and got out, walking gingerly between rows of SUVs.
“Well, yeah.” They carefully made their way past the panhandling teenagers who often lurked en route to their usual lunch spot.
“So? What’s wrong with that? Everyone loves taking calls. Getting phone calls is great. Gives you a sense of self importance. Excuse for pomposity.” She lifted her nose high into the air to illustrate her point.
“I don’t do that when I answer the phone at home, though.”
“Well, of course not, Megan. At home, the whole world can’t see that somebody wants to talk to you!” She laughed and thumped Megan playfully on her plump shoulder.
Megan returned the blow and smiled wistfully.
“Maybe, but you should have seen his face. He was like a different person. Like a . . . like a zombie or something.”
“Well, most men are practically zombies anyway, right? At least he paid for dinner.”
They laughed together, then, and homed in on the patio restaurant they both loved so much. On the way, the pair ran into a cell phone vendor. He looked like a toga party gone horribly awry, draped in huge, gaudy sheets that proclaimed the lack of roaming charges, the benefits of camera phones, text messaging, and assorted techno babble tailor-made for mass consumption. Carol smiled again and pulled Megan along.
“Let’s go see. Maybe it’s a conspiracy by the government or something. Rot our brains!” She approached the vendor as he spasmodically shoved his wares on a group of ten-year-olds. The model in his hands was sleek and stylish, like a cigarette case for non-smokers.
“Now this here kids, has it all! Text messaging, picture emailing, video, MP3s, downloadable games, everything!”
Carol touched his shoulder and spoke in her most vapid tone.
“Hey, so, don’t these, like, give you brain cancer or something?”
The vendor’s face grew dark, a wave of anger sweeping across its surface before receding behind his wide smile and terribly unfunny phone-shaped hat.
“Oh, that’s a myth. Government said so, what, while ago, right? Interested in one?”
“Not me. Megan?”
She shook her head as her mind reeled, staggered by a bewildering onslaught of family plans listed on the brochure she was idly flipping through, filled with gaudy pictures of people using cell phones while at baseball games, or climbing mountains, and assorted other random activities. She pointed an accusing finger at the children. They were gathered worshipfully around a bright green phone with superheroes emblazoned across its face.
“I don’t get it. Who’s gonna use all this stuff? How many people can a ten year old even know? And why would a ten-year-old need text messaging? They can’t even spell correctly as it is now! I’m a teacher, trust me, I know.” The children, who had been occupying themselves with a selection of specially modified cell phone cases, sneered at her laconically.
The vendor smiled again, eyes focused on Megan.
“Now, c’mon. Don’t wanna be left out in the cold, eh? Everyone’s gonna have one of these babies soon, right kids?” The pack agreed vociferously.
“But why? When did these things become so necessary? How did they catch on so fast?”
“Technology, kiddo. Progress of man and all th—” His phone rang mid sentence, bringing his personality down with his arm. Up came the finger, down and to the left went the submissive head.
“What? Okay. Okay. Okay. Right. Okay.” When his attention returned, he was different somehow. Dazed. His lifeless eyes dug into Megan, bored into her soul like an annoying ring tone. She shrunk back a little as a chorus of bleeps and discordant flourishes whirled around her. She looked at the pack of children who had all pulled out phones more expensive then the clothes they were wearing or the school supplies they hadn’t bought. In unison, a sea of heads, bobbing, bobbing, bobbing . . . Megan felt herself pulled in. Of their own volition, her hands reached for a phone that was ringing inches from her head.
“You’re right, Megan, this is a little weird.” Carol tugged her away, out of the park, away from the phones, and into their familiar lunch routine. There was a strange vibe in the place, though; too many ringtones, too many muted agreements. They ate quickly and left, feeling very out of sorts.
After saying goodbye, Megan walked up the stairs to her apartment. On the way she stepped over a cell phone lying forlornly against the doorway. Must be Paul’s. She grinned ruefully and left it on the stairs.
Carol called her next week to set up their lunch at a new place, outside of town. Megan had spent a fruitless few days on the Internet trying to track down information on cell phones. Where did they come from, who had first made them, etc. What she had found was disappointing. Plenty of ads, dozens of offers, but no real information. She had also been taking notes on her boyfriend, comparing the differences between cell-phone Paul and normal Paul. She brought these notes along on their lunch date and was busily explaining them to Carol in the car as they rolled down the highway.
“And here’s the thing, Carol.” She waved her notes in the air. “His attention span is totally shot for like twenty minutes or so after a call, his hearing isn’t as good, and, well, he’s just not the same. The other day we were having sex and he got up and answered the phone! Right in the middle of the whole thing! And when he came back it took him an hour to get back into the mood, and I was wearing that thing he likes!”
Carol grinned.
“Which thing?”
“The one with all the things on it.”
Carol laughed humorlessly.
“Oh, you’re just paranoid, Megan.”
“You saw what happened last week. All those kids . . .” She shuddered as the memory came back to her, an image from a bad eighties horror film. “How come no one else thinks this behavior is a little weird? There’s something going on. I know it. I can feel it.”
“They probably didn’t notice because nothing’s happening, except for you being a total freak.” Her horn angrily denounced some passing motorists who dared to drive safely.
“But you were there, Carol . . .”
“Listen, I was there, and all I saw was . . .” A soft vibration came through the seat. “Oh, hold on.” Megan watched with mounting horror as Carol pulled out a cell phone and placed it against her ear. The power light on the base, peaking out from between strands of hair, stared lasciviously at her. She tried to turn her head away from the electronic gaze but could still feel it lurking around the base of her neck.
“I thought you didn’t like those . . .”
Carol wasn’t listening. At least not to anything in the car.
“Okay. Sure. Okay.” Her head nodded rhythmically as she spoke. Megan started as Carol’s hands slowly slipped from the wheel. The car began to accelerate, veering quickly off the road.
“Carol, the road. Carol!” Megan frantically grabbed for the wheel but it was too late. The car crashed through a fence and rocketed into the woods, finally coming to a cataclysmic halt halfway through a large tree.
The last thing Megan heard before slipping out of consciousness was Carol’s fading voice, thick with rusted bubbles rising from the depths of her shattered mouth.
“Okay. Okay . . .”
When she awoke, the only thing she was certain of was being on the ground, some distance from the car. Before she could make sense of things a reassuring hand fell upon her shoulder.
“Megan? Megan? It’s okay. It’s me, Paul.”
“Oh, Paul, how did you . . .” She tried to sit up and failed miserably. Her head pounded. Flashes of light traveled across her vision, covering the world in thick veils of faded cotton.
“Somebody called. Come on, let’s get you up.” He pulled her gently to her feet. It was dark. She didn’t know what time it was, but she could dimly make out the ravaged car through the murky light shed from passing motorists.
“Who called? Why would they know to call you?” She swooned, briefly, holding her head in her hands, trying to keep the important parts inside. He held her tight until the world stopped spinning. She looked up gratefully into his eyes.
And then over his shoulder.
At first, she thought they were stars. Thousands of them, twinkling in the darkness all around her. She couldn’t tell how far away they were. They were like miniature headlights. Or eyes. Watching. Waiting. Hungry. Wolves. And they were coming closer. Her damaged faculties finally relayed the obvious. Wolves don’t have red eyes. Or green. Or orange, or purple . . . she pulled back from the lights, but Paul’s grip held.
“Paul? Paul, what’s going on? Please, let’s go. I . . .”
Paul smiled at her, a fleeting instant. His hold grew tighter as the phone at his hip rang impatiently. He cocked his head to one side as he listened, nodded.
Megan watched as his hand slowly caressed her face with the edge of the phone, his eyes reflecting the glow of a thousand lights. And one that was close, so close.
“It’s for you.” |
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